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Initials B​.​R. Single Edits

by Initials B.R.

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about

Four of the songs on Initials B.R. overlap. This download consists of bonus single edits of those four album tracks, so you can enjoy and share them individually without awkward starts and stops.

credits

released April 7, 2011

composed, performed, recorded, and mixed by Luke Kirkland
mastered by Alan Douches at West West Side Music
cover photograph by peon (peon.virb.com)

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Visit initialsbr.com to learn more.

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Track Name: Initials B.R. (Single Edit)
INITIALS B.R. (we have seen the moment of our greatness flicker)

I thought it was an office of amour or supper for the vultures;
Cobras posed for the strike don't bite.
Flight's from the homes that we like,
So we care where the culture's prepared for the nightlife.
We seldom scene and rarely herd
Eschew the turbulence of spread word.
I leave the herbs for the birds
And work to return my urn on good terms.

Dirges, distant, different,
Infiltrate catalogs, egging imprints with
Analog instants mixed in
Digitized dips into depths of delinquence.
Thieves in the night nab lights,
Crack shafts, splice back filaments diced.
Contacts at channels left and right
Bridge 'round wire-wrapped headrest heights.

Argon's passed through the dash into cabs where the
Gas is trapped by the windshield glass.
As the whole sky lights with a key on a kite
We heist with an eye for a bulb so bright that
Beats throw glowing effects on the
Streets, so leaving in minds' eyes a
Flee-ting image to sleep on.
And brother we keep on. Brother-ucker we keep on.

I write raps with the... (Initials)
I autograph with the... (Initials)
I monogram in the... (Initials)
My epitaph is the… (B.R.)

I axe acts with the... (Initials)
I ransack with the... (Initials)
I laugh last... (Initials)
Don’t ever talk back, it’s... (B.R.)

The path I want to take to where the pupa wake
Is on a pad of pape- I paint and pixelate.
I pick apart a crate. It makes me want to bake.
I bake a funnel cake and thus a tunnel make.
I rap slop like seconds stated preference,
Thoreau bows like the whole transcendentalist kraft works--
We crow bars while they lever-rage
Against the man-machine like they didn't get the messages.

It's a hard day's night that don't end cheap.
Pressure in my chest on peak; in my brain beats
Revolve around the axis speech that I can't seem
To voice against the noise outside. I don't rest easily.
Most nights I need the wind's white noise to make
The sleep-space safe to escape to the dream-state.
I place blades in a cage as the fan base
Teeters on a peg-leg and shakes when it oscillates.

If I could keep it L-O I’d lay and lounge on a
Mem-foam pillow and mellow alone.
More prone to rock bellows,
Webelos scout 21+ shows for the embryo.
See, I dressed up an egg, man, then put it on
Like the yoke drives furrows. A furlough belongs
To those who build burrows of song, so
B.R. other we keep on. Brother-ucker we keep on.

I write raps with the... (Initials)
I autograph with the... (Initials)
I monogram in the... (Initials)
My epitaph is the… (B.R.)

I axe acts with the... (Initials)
I ransack with the... (Initials)
I laugh last... (Initials)
Don’t ever talk back, it’s... (B.R.)

I wreck tracks with the... (Initials)
Snares clap with the... (Initials)
Kick blasts crack... (Initials)
Plaster and lath, it’s… (B.R.)

I wax maths with the... (Initials)
ASCAP with the ... (Initials)
I’m the cat... (Initials)
Who’s taking you to task. It’s... (B.R.)

It’s like that with the... (Initials)
And that’s match with the... (Initials)
Silly rabbit get your... (Initials)
Body cast graffed with the… (B.R.)
Track Name: Sesame (Single Edit)
SESAME (we never sleep)

This false Simois makes my
Medicine mean more. Substance
Drips from a finetip: spilt Ipswitch,
Piss on the bathroom tiles. I'm a nightshift
Kingpin: place all waste in marked bins,
Sweep up broke glass and butts and napkins--
Lipstick writ dipped in puddles as the footprints
Obscure the digits. I'm on to the "What If?"…

Some kid on an "I'm the shit" kick
Probably got hip to some hit-on business,
Approached the object and spit, and maybe she
Strobe-lights as something she isn't in the darkness.
Or maybe she dimes but won't commit to split.
And ass beats class so forget it. Or maybe she's
Perfect and everything is curtains.
I guess we'll never know for certain. At 4:10 I fill a

Wheeled yellow tub with a hose and the suds grow
Round in a fountain of bubbles for the crud.
The floor is sick with mixed ground and grit
And more stick than you know exists. I sit and quick
Mix one strong drink for myself on the tab
Of a credit card left, so I have for the task
A buzz for a well-parched throat that'll last
To preserve 'gainst the bubbling morass I attack.

I swear I rock me galoshes with some yellow
Wet-proof slickers on top. And every other
Pass with the mop I approach where the stage drops.
Nothing's gonna keep me off of that rock
Of Gibraltar. Altars are few and far between.
Only one thing relieves me: the pop of the PA,
Sound checks, instruments, DJs,
And house lights dimming as the world goes away.

Trains irrespective of course
Quit rails when the clock strikes twelve in the morning.
So after all the fares tip a cab ride home
And after all the clubs have closed, I make it so:
I be the number one chosen just to keep you open.
I be the number one chosen just to keep you open.
I be the number one chosen just to keep you open.
On three: Sesame!

1-2-3: Sesame!

I imagine all the cab companies elbow deep in pockets
Of government officials and reps. College kids
Will spend stills and still wander night's end.
Six in the morning, the trains start running again.
I been keeping public transit on my end for
Polishing my moves on a newly mopped dance floor.
I see the sound sys thump and board shut,
Back doors locked up and trash in the dump.

Some bum alarmed by what's up harrumphs
And cheers a half crushed up cup to beg funds.
Quick to defense, I don an indifferent mien,
And think upon exiles and immigrants, innocents
Apt at impediments, denizens masked 'gainst
Mold spore culture dishing Orleans tenements,
Aged bent 'gainst deaf senses. I shiver at the
Evidence and shuffle to the train, pensive.

What makes a man's heart harder
To targets of stars' stray darts? What takes a
Man's arm farther than powder and pity at a
"Spare a little change, pardner?"? What takes
The parchment arts beyond Hallmark Cards
If audiences maw sentimental jargon? And what it is if
The very next night parts us, the train parks,
We about face and disappear into the darkness?

What insists, when trains irrespective of course
Quit rails when the clock strikes twelve in the morning,
That after all the fares tip a cab ride home
And after all the clubs have closed, I make it so:
I be the number one chosen just to keep you open?
I be the number one chosen just to keep you open...
I be the number one chosen just to keep you open…
Track Name: The Music Man (Single Edit)
THE MUSIC MAN (we are open for business)

So your heart's broken.
Wanna come back home with me?
Something tells me you need a little
TLC and I could be all three. But I believe
There's a fine line between recreation and relation.
I could illustrate it all on maps and graphs.
But it's a complicated enterprise to separate the intimate
Asides of the mind's inner arts and crafts.

I concede that against betrayal of the best in
Verbal assurance of affection is a test of
Genuine devotion on behalf of a half
Towards a half. That's math. Why do you laugh? I ask 'cause
Maybe you imagine that my pickup liner note’s
Just faking a jewel-case for practical joke.
Or that my day-job va-kay’s a tour-length road-spree
Where PTO's good for PYT. Please…

I see it on your face now. You're wondering
What exactly is it I'm proposing if I haven't any interest in
Expediting amorous relations such as might befit the
Natural ambitions of a ripe young man.
Well I have to confess, ma'am. I’m timid in large crowds.
But in my room with no one else around, no doubt
I’m bound to wreck your body when I turn the party out.
Maybe it'll help you understand to spell aloud. See:

We just met. And it's a pretty loud club.
I don’t fly by night ‘cause no one hit nightstand’s
A hand in glove. It just wonders. Plus I was
Raised on LL. I know "I Need Love" by heart.
Pardon if I pause at the part.
Excuse? “I Used To Love H.E.R."
And though diamonds are a “Girl’s Best Friend”, I’m po’.
So you know, “I Know”, you know, “I know”. Baby, I’m

Needing no assurance of your “Beautiful Skin”, but I can
Barely see in light so dim, and I can barely hear you
Over the din. So if you're in give me a pad and a pen.
Hell, I could put you in my Top 10 if you friend me.
Better yet, gimme ten. You can lay
Gazing into my eyes, CD cover on your pillowcase.
Digits deserve canvas and paint,
I’d settle for toothpaste if it wouldn’t erase.

There are places where we’ve stationery
Better than a napkin. Quick, don’t forget to hit
Me with “the at” for my email list.
Lipstick signature and goodbye kiss.
And that’s it. Catch you at the next show.
I gotta go, I gotta go, I gotta go.

CHORUS

All of my interests mesh messes and jest.
Even my best attempt’s only a litmus test.
Disprove the pessimist’s guess that I'll like you less.
And I’ll like you best.

One of the things that occurred when I began to, uh, just, you know, feel some changes happening…I was kind of still entertaining in gin joints, you know…and, uh, it was weird, to come out, you know, to all these folks…a lot of Shriners and hookers and salesman, which are the same as hookers, really…you had to find ways to break the ice, I mean...and I told them a poem…

And it goes…
Everybody takes their clothes off (believe that)
Everybody takes their clothes off (and then some)
Everybody takes their clothes off (uh huh)
Everybody takes their clothes off
And I'll do anything I can to insure, if it takes
Every little bit, that no one forgets
I'm taking my ass home with me, 'til I see
Everybody--I mean everybody--gets an

Honorable mention, an honorary MENSA
Membership, an honorary doctorate, plus
An honorable judge presiding,
A medal of honor, and an honorable discharge.
It's this artifice that's the culprit. It's this
Business-as-usual attitude. It's
Strangers soapboxing pulpits, thinking that a
Tirade’s what attracts punditry.

It’s parents selling you a magic rabbit’ll be
Breaking into kitchens in the night and gradually
Hiding all the dozens that you dyed in excise for a
Chocolate consolation prize, all for
Christ. And we can all laugh at that but
Only after the fact has passed. And that’s the gaff.

CHORUS

If I should have no home excepting the road,
Blame not the sounds of those seventy-six trombones.
Take all my implements. Tether my wits.
Tell them my rhetoric’s rabid with expletives.
Tell me my mind’s escaped. Tell me I’m safe.
Sever the man from “make”. Then I’ll cooperate.
Render the precious pens penchant in chest
Deaf to the beck and call of all other audience
And I’ll like you best.
Track Name: The Confidence Man (Single Edit)
THE CONFIDENCE MAN (we give you our word)

Look at them cats on cell phones,
Talking out domes like ringtone snow-globes,
Earlobes targeted, charged with
Hair on end like antennas and fiber optics.
Head-band-width is Pangaea, with some
Two billion people on the other ends of send buttons.
Chomping at the bit, all rabid like
Animals, slavering, blue teeth chattering.

Ample in mind, I amble through life on the
Lam from the law with an eye on the type
Fit for enriching the grifter and right for the
Scams that I plan in the still of the night.
Making the ends meet towards feats more than
Selling you speakers out of the back of a white van.
Cat-scan’s for the con-tact: I
Play you like Mattress Man and that’s that.

CHORUS

Case you enough to
Take you for all you’ve
Got. Then when I’ve
Caught you right where I
Want you, that’s when I
Bag what I won. By the
Time that you call for the
Law, I’ll be gone.

Do the Ponzi scheme y’all. (Bin dun that before)
Do the 419 fraud. (Bin dun that before)
Well let’s salt the mine. (Bin dun that before)
And get ‘em ogged online. (Bin dun that before)
Come on, now, sell that bridge. (Bin dun that before)
And move prize packages. (Bin dun that before)
We’re gon’ make a deal. You’re gon’ get-rich-quick.
Do I have your confidence?

Recently, I’ve been working on a series, individual
Pitches replete with the sweet temptation of
Greed as opposed to the snares of deceit to
Feast on sweet fresh meat. See, used to be
I’d bootleg CDs to sell piece by
Piece except each case left empty. Now
It seems we need the technology to cheat
Fees for downloadable mp3s. Believe…

Ease of escape is the difference between
The police and a scrape, a career and a wake.
Even the aces believe that the laws are the
Tools of the trade, loopholes in the lay:
Legal recourse isn’t afforded to perps who are
Willing participants in the exchange of hot merch.
Knock first. I prefer notice. I’m a
Slip out the back and be on the road before you know it.

CHORUS

Case you enough to
Take you for all you’ve
Got. Then when I’ve
Caught you right where I
Want you, that’s when I
Bag what I won. By the
Time that you call for the
Law, I’ll be gone.

Do the money box scheme y’all. (Bin dun that before)
Do some Foreign Exchange fraud. (Bin dun that before)
Do the pig-in-a-poke, homes. (Bin dun that before)
Do the bogus escrow. (Bin dun that before)
Now Wash Wash the funds, y’all. (Bin dun that before)
Do the glim-dropper cool mil’. (Bin dun that before)
We’re gon’ make a deal. You’re gon’ get-rich-quick.
Do I have your confidence?

Sweet red lady with a
Rose. Now tell me where she
Goes. Tell me where she
Goes. Ready? Watch the
Red Queen lady through the
Throw. Now tell me where she
Goes. Tell me where she goes.
Tell me where she goes!

“Case closed. Possible suspect
Evades capture by local police.” At least
That’s what the headline reads. Still it seems like
More often than not it ain’t a walk through the park trees,
More often than not I feel masked hands squeeze less
Room to breathe. It ain’t even police. It’s these
Fantasies of phantom vengeful marks
Waiting for me in my own house in the dark.

How I sleep in this heat keeps
Eating away at me. Maybe I need to seek
Gainful employment and salary, a health
Plan, and eventually retire with ease. Son,
Please, imagine me, doing something
Even halfway interesting, nestling
On track, feeling like parole when you get back.
Chill ‘til your will snaps. In fact, just last

Week I was eating Teppanyaki in a Benihana
Thinking on the possibilities, like that could be
Me: reeling in hibachi heat, dripping sweat
Like sauna beads into teriyaki beef. Give it
A week before I’d go swinging santoku blades
Like katana made by Hanso, red toque
Wiggin’ out, stickin’ up the crowd outwitted, like
“Out with it, out with it, out with it, out with it!”